Hiding In Plain Sight
by Half-BPrincess
Summary: After Sirius' death, Dumbledore comes up with a radical new plan to keep Harry safe, but will the experience change our favourite saviour?
1. Chapter 1

- Chapter 1 -

Summer

It had been twenty three days since Harry had written to anyone from the Order of the Phoenix. Despite their promises, and assurances, nobody had come to Privet Drive. Nobody had even written him, apart from Luna, not even Ron and Hermione. Quite frankly, without Luna, Harry would have been completely lost for news of the Wizarding World.

He'd attempted to obtain a subscription to the Daily Prophet, earlier in the summer, but the paper had written him back, telling him that he needed permission from his guardians. Like the Dursleys would ever agree to _that._ He'd told Luna, in one of his letters to her, and she'd responded by sending three owls with back copies of both the Prophet, and the Quibbler. She now sent her copies on to Harry as soon as she'd read them. She sent other things, too; years old copies of Witch Weekly, Charms journals and a few books.

They'd all seemed fairly innocuous until he'd read through them. In each publication she'd sent an old issue of, there was a mention of him, or of his family. A Witch Weekly article on how to colour your eyes to 'the same emerald as Harry Potters!'. Recurring columns in Charms journals about the application of the Fidelius Charm on the Potter House in Godric's Hollow. Children's tales of 'Harry Potter' fighting dragons, and marrying princesses.

The most useful book she'd sent had been an old law book. It had been extremely dry, and hard to read until Harry had reached a section which spoke about the usage of names, and stories of so-called 'Public Figures'. It turned out that there were entire laws that proved that Rita Skeeter's articles had been illegal, even her interviews. According to another book, Snape's treatment of him had been against the Hogwarts teacher's charter too.

Harry wondered if anyone had had plans to enlighten him. He thought not. Hermione had to have come across some of the stuff before. Harry knew that she had made it one of her ongoing tasks to learn about how Wizarding law differed from Muggle law, and there were too many articles for her to _not _be aware of them. A part of Harry asked, in a small voice, if he was really surprised.

After all, didn't the Prophecy prove it? The real Harry Potter's life was supposed to be like a fairytale. The warrior, the hero, the knight in shining armour… that was _him._ And if he didn't survive to marry the princess, he was sure that someone else would be pushed into position. Neville, maybe. He was malleable, just as Harry was. Had been.

Instead of doing his multiple homework assignments, Harry had been writing down as many of his bad decisions as he could remember, and cross referencing them with the lists he'd made of the times he'd been manipulated. It really sucked how many people's names had come up, when he'd thought hard.

It also sucked that nobody had even tried to talk to him about Sirius. Okay, Luna had a little, but she was just a kid, still. Younger than him, even. Not one _adult _had had a conversation with him, asked him how he was feeling. They hadn't even when he'd been at Hogwarts, at the end of the year.

Sirius had been the only person who Harry could talk to, who Harry could go to, ever since he'd found out that Sirius was innocent. Logically, Harry knew that Sirius hadn't been the _best _of Godfathers, but he'd been the only one he'd had. And those two years that he'd had him… they weren't enough. He'd been the first person to put Harry first, to care about him, to listen to him, to help him. He'd been the first person to give Harry a proper _hug_. Sirius had been like… like a dad.

Hermione had barely acknowledged Sirius's death, she'd seemed more interested in her end of term results, and whether she'd get a black mark on her record for sneaking out of school. Ron, ever the pragmatist, had told him he'd still got Lupin. And wasn't Remus just another kettle of fish?

He'd been a complete failure in Harry's life, in general. Sure, in third year Harry had thought the world of him, but what had he actually done? Ignored Harry for twelve years, popped back to teach a little, then disappeared again. Surely if Remus had actually _cared _he'd have turned up before, or at least _tried _to find out about him. But instead he'd used his condition as a poor excuse for not seeing Harry. Twenty-seven days of the month Remus was _fine_.

Harry pulled himself from his contemplative stupor as tapping came from the window. He looked up, and frowned at the sight of an unfamiliar owl. Luna had Hedwig for the summer, only sending her when she had letters or packages for Harry (which did mean that Harry saw a fair amount of his familiar, due to the amount of mail Luna sent to Harry), so it couldn't be her. He steadfastly refused to hope that one of his so-called friends had sent him a letter, which meant that it was probably bad news. The Ministry accusing him of something he hadn't done, again, perhaps?

Harry sighed, and went over to the window, pulling open the sash. He frowned at the writing on the letter… it was Dumbledore's. The owl flew off as soon as he'd untied the parchment, obviously not needing a reply. He growled as he sat down on the bed to read through the missive.

_ Harry,_

_ I, and Professor Snape, will be coming to pick you up in one hour, please have your trunk packed, and be ready to leave, as you will not be returning to the Dursley's this summer. Alternate arrangements have been made, I will explain them upon my arrival._

_ Yours sincerely,_

_ Albus Dumbledore_

Harry scowled. How dare the old man just waltz back into his life as if it had been hours, not weeks since they'd last spoken. And before _that_ their conversations had been even less frequent. He was actively _trying _to manipulate him. Harry had gotten better at seeing it now. Dumbledore wanted Harry to look up to him, as a hero, or as a grandfatherly figure. Always coming in to save the day, just about. To rescue Harry and take him to Hogwarts, away from the Dursleys. Well, not this time. At least with the Dursleys life was pretty straightforward. With Dumbledore it was a horrible mess.

Harry lay down on his bed once more, staring at the off-white ceiling. He sighed gently, before rolling to his side and drifting off into a peaceful sleep. _This'll really piss him off,_ Harry thought fondly before he slipped into the world of dreams.

He was rather rudely awoken by the sounds of shouting downstairs, just over an hour and a half later.

"I'VE SAID IT BEFORE AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN, WE DON'T WANT _YOUR _SORT ANYWHERE NEAR US!" _Uncle Vernon_, Harry realised, smiling to himself. Dumbledore was in for a right treat. He quickly jumped out of bed, and snuck to the top of the stairs, where he could hear everything being said. Or shouted.

"Mr. Dursley, I do apologise for the interruption, but I need-"

"WHAT YOU NEED TO DO IS TO GET OUT OF MY RUDDY HOUSE, THAT'S WHAT YOU NEED!"

"I need to speak to-"

"Vernon, what on Earth are you-? YOU!" _Ah, Aunt Petunia now_. Harry almost felt sorry for Dumbledore. Almost.

"Ah, Petunia, just the-"

"GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!"

"Mrs. Dursley, if you would-"

"MY WIFE TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!"

"Ah, I am afraid that-"

"LEAVE US ALONE!"

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

"But-"

"DON'T MAKE ME DO SOMETHING I'LL REGRET!"

"VERNON GO GET YOUR GUN!"

"Want me to go and stop them?" a soft voice asked from behind him. Harry span around, to find his cousin Dudley watching him carefully. "I will, you know, if you want me to. Wouldn't want your friend there getting hurt, or anything."

"He can look after himself. There are two of them, I think." Harry said slowly, then paused for a moment. "And they're not my friends."

Dudley cocked his head, then shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"Up to you, I guess," he said dismissively. "I would have thought that you'd be foaming at the mouth to get out of here though, the way we've always treated you."

"Not as if _they_'ve been much better. At least with you lot I know what I'm getting. You don't care, and I know that. The rest of them… they pretend I matter to them, but I don't. Not really." Harry spat, rolling his eyes at the flash of light from downstairs. Obviously Dumbledore had done something to his Aunt and Uncle.

"That's rough, little cousin," Dudley observed. "Real rough. You ain't never had an easy time of it, have you?"

"No," Harry smiled softly at the other boy. "Thanks for this, Dud. You're not so bad, you know?" His cousin grimaced.

"Yeah, well, I try." The blonde smirked, self-consciously, before being struck with a flash of light from behind him.

"Potter," Snape sneered. "Show myself and the Headmaster to your room, and I shall begin the changes."

"Changes? What _changes?_" Harry narrowed his eyes "I don't remember you mentioning any changes in your letter, Headmaster."

"Ah, no, of course I didn't. I'll explain it all once we're comfortable in your room, my boy." Harry sighed, understanding that he wasn't going to get an explanation until he did as the older man told him to. Without speaking, Harry turned and entered his room, careful to take the only available seating, his unmade bed. He stretched his legs across it, making it obvious that he didn't want Dumbledore or Snape seated next to him.

"You should have told the boy already, I do _not _have time to spare." Harry heard Snape tell the Headmaster, behind him.

The bearded wonder responded by conjuring himself a facsimile of the chair he sat in at the Head Table in Hogwarts, an art in woodwork. He settled himself into it happily. Snape stood in a corner, next to the door, eyes sweeping the room disdainfully.

"So, Headmaster, what's going on?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Around two hours ago, a woman called Rhian Meredith was found dead in her home. She had been viciously murdered by Death Eaters." Harry waited for him to continue, rolling his eyes when no more information was forthcoming.

"With all due respect, Headmaster, the Death Eaters must have been killing a lot of people this summer, why should this woman matter so much?"

"Because, _Potter_, Rhian and I were engaged, some years ago." Snape bit out darkly.

"My condolences, Professor, on your loss. However, perhaps I should rephrase the question. Why should this woman matter so much _to me_?" It took almost all of the inner strength Harry had not to wince at the glare that Snape bestowed on him.

"Rhian Meredith, and Severus's engagement ended just under fifteen years ago." Dumbledore said simply.

"Right." Harry replied blankly.

"Miss Meredith removed herself from Wizarding Britain, shortly after she and Severus parted. Severus himself told me that she had instigated the separation, and he never heard of her afterwards."

"What are you trying to suggest, sir?" Harry asked, mildly curious now.

"Ah, Harry have you no ideas?"

"Professor Snape, in the interests of getting this conversation over with as quickly as possible, would you mind?" Harry turned to the dour man with a raised eyebrow. To say that he was surprised when the man nodded would be an understatement.

"The Headmaster would have you masquerade as my son." Snape said dryly. Harry blinked in shock, his mouth falling open. "It is clearly an impossible plan, as-" Harry held up a hand for Snape to pause, and tilted his head to the right.

"I would look something like you, with the use of Potions and spells?" Harry asked slowly. Snape nodded. "This… This… Headmaster, may Professor Snape and I have a few minutes to speak about this?"

"Of course, Harry. I will wait for you in the living room." Dumbledore stood, and banished the chair, leaving the room at a sedate pace.

"What do you think you are playing at, Potter?" Snape hissed as soon as the door was shut.

"Do you think you could ward the door, Professor?" Harry asked calmly. "Or maybe the entire room would be better. I wouldn't want this conversation to be overheard."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he did as he had been bidden. Golden threads soon covered the entire room. Harry nodded to himself, and smiled at his Potions Professor, effectively disarming the snapped comment the other man had been about to make.

"For once, he might have actually come up with a good idea, you know?" Harry swung his legs off the bed, and looked hard at Snape. "This could actually work, or it could completely fail, and ruin a lot of things. From where I'm sitting, a lot of this would depend on _you, _sir, and from where you're sitting, a lot of this would depend on _me_.

"If we could trust each other, just a little bit more, sir, I think this might work." Harry took a deep breath. "What do you think?"

"I think it is a fools quest. You and I could never act as a father and son - we would never look upon each other with anything but hatred." Snape sighed. "And, when it fails, it will bring my career as a spy, and possibly my life, to an abrupt end."

"You and this woman - Rhian, right? - broke up on bad terms, you'd say?" Snape nodded slowly. "Well then, wouldn't she have told her son that his Dad was a right bastard? And then, wouldn't her son argue with him all the time, and do his best to piss him off?"

"Potter, you may be onto something there…" Snape frowned after a moment, spoiling his hopeful expression. "But your behaviour would give us away. There is no way that you can stop yourself from behaving in the same manner that you always have. You would be Sorted into Gryffindor, and you would be unable to stop yourself from telling Granger, and Weasley."

"Actually, Professor, I'm beginning to think that they may not really be my friends…" Harry grimaced, then continued. "You see, I've been thinking about it this summer, and they've sort of been using me, for years. Just like Dumbledore, really." Harry continued on, not noticing Snape's slack-jawed expression. "The only person I'd tell, if I could, would be Luna Lovegood. I think she'd work it out anyway, she's pretty good at that kind of stuff." When Harry looked up, it was Snape who had his head tilted to one side.

"Okay," he said simply.

"Okay what, sir?" Harry asked, more than slightly confused.

"Let's do it." Snape pulled out a potion bottle from his pocket. "Here, drink this."


	2. Chapter 2

- Chapter 2 -

Daddy

"Dillon, you will not be wearing clothes like _that,_ when you are with me, I can assure you. If I have to spend every Galleon I have, you will look like a _respectable _wizard!" Severus was finding it remarkably simple to treat Potter as if he were his own brat. It really wasn't all that different to how he'd treated the boy before. It was a shame, he mused, that 'Dillon' wasn't as easy to spit out as Potter was. Trust the boy to pick a name with a distinct lack of bilabial phonemes.

"Well if you think I'm wearing fuddy-duddy robes like you then you can fuck right off!" His face twisted into a sneer, his back straightened and his voice deepened as he imitated his 'father'. "I'm Professor Snape, I look like I'm from the eighteenth century, but that's okay, 'cause when I turn my fucking _dress_ billows!" Executing a perfect 180 degree turn on the spot the robes that he did wear billowed out. Severus had to admit he was impressed - it had taken him several years, and a specially tailored robe.

Both men stiffened at the sound of a single pair of hands clapping slowly. Their eyes fixed on the pair of blondes simultaneously.

"Lucius," Severus nodded. "and Draco. A pleasure. May I introduce my son, Dillon? Dillon, this is Lucius Malfoy and his son, Draco Malfoy. Lucius is a prominent member of our society, holding several positions in the Ministry, and is head of the school board at Hogwarts. Draco is the same age as you, you'll be attending school with him in September."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Snape," Lucius held out his hand cordially. Harry snorted and spat derisively.

"My name is Dillon Meredith, not Snape. I wouldn't take the bastard's name if he paid me." Harry wasn't surprised at the cuff that Snape aimed in his direction, but years of living with Vernon had graced him with quick reflexes and he managed to neatly step aside, avoiding Snape's hand altogether. "Close, father, but no cigar." He taunted. Snape scowled, while both Malfoys merely looked amused. The elder turned to the younger and raised an eyebrow, nodding almost imperceptibly at Harry.

"Perhaps, Dillon, you and I could shop for robes?" Younger Malfoy stepped forwards as he made the offer. "I'm sure that between the two of us we could come up with… something to appease your father."

"Which has nothing to do with you wanting to hear all about where I appeared from, I'm sure." Harry replied with a smirk. Malfoy - Draco, Harry supposed he'd have to call him, replied with a wry smile and a half nod. Harry sighed. "Come on then… You can show me the best places to get robes - tailored ones. I'll fill you in on my life, and you can fill me in on Hogwarts… I assume that's where you know my Father from?"

"Dillon, how do you expect to get robes with no money?" Snape asked silkily. "You will apologise, or you will be buying nothing!"

"Or, Father, I could go to Gringotts and use my inheritance from Mother. Goodbye." With that, Harry swept away towards the imposing white marble that was Gringotts.

He and Snape had already been into Gringotts earlier, of course, to make sure that the Goblins knew what they were doing, and would let Dillon Meredith access Harry Potter's vaults.

Soon, he and Draco were speeding in one of the carts towards the vaults. Harry pulled a leather money pouch from his pocket and entered, eyes fixed on what seemed like never ending piles of gold. When Draco didn't immediately enter, Harry invited him inside, pleased at the small gasp that he let out.

"So, you and your father have known mine for some time, yes?" Harry asked casually as he carelessly swept piles of coins into a small leather bag.

"Naturally. Our fathers have been friends since they were in school together. I'm sure we will be too." Draco smirked across at Harry, only to be met with a sneer and a raised eyebrow.

"Personally, I prefer the company of _useful _people." Harry was enjoying playing a Pureblood tosser, and a smile flitted across his face briefly as he eyed the blonde up and down. "Draco dear, are _you _useful?"

Dumbly, Draco merely nodded his head. Harry smirked inside: this was much more fun than he'd thought it would be.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

They were in the tailors when Draco got his first _real _shock. Neither he nor the tailor understood Harry's description of drainpipe trousers, so the boy had asked for a piece of charcoal and parchment, drawing them out remarkably well. Obviously, they were both scandalised by how tightly they fit, but with the exorbitant price that Dillon was willing to pay, the tailor was brought around quite easily, even offering very tightly fitting shirts, jumpers and open robes to showcase Dillon's muscled figure.

"But Dillon, you can't wear those!" Draco protested. "You'll be stared at like you're some kind of… of… sex symbol!"

"Being a sex symbol is a bad thing?" Harry replied, an eyebrow raised. "You get some too, and just see how easy it is to pull."

With that thought in mind, Draco added three pairs of the trousers to his own order.

They went to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour afterwards, Draco's head still spinning with the strangeness of the boy in front of him. He didn't even _look _like Snape's son - copper coloured hair instead of inky black, defined muscles instead of skin and bones, confidence and sex appeal instead of… No, he most definitely did not want to think out the end of _that _sentence, thank you very much!

"So, you don't seem particularly… enamoured, of your father." Draco began warily, hoping that Dillon would step in, but the other boy merely shrugged in response. "What happened between the two of you, if it's not too forward of me to ask?"

"Oh you know full well that it's too forward of you." Dillon replied with a smirk, licking a broad stripe along his spoon.


End file.
